


Just Dad Things

by BestParsley



Series: Just Space Dad Things [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Single dad mando, space dad being a good father, very short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21787576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BestParsley/pseuds/BestParsley
Summary: Just a very short drabble about nap-time in the Razor Crest.(Completely unedited, and written in about ten minutes so you get what you paid for)
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Just Space Dad Things [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570138
Comments: 33
Kudos: 640





	1. Chapter 1

The ship echoes with the sounds of occasional ticks and sputters as it settles from being powered down. The controls in the cockpit beep and blink, but there’s no pilot in the front seat.

Mando is asleep in the single, makeshift bunk, and he’s been asleep ever since they landed. There was nowhere else to go. They are parked in the middle of a rocky tundra, on a deserted planet. Nice and desolate. No Jawas around to try gutting the ship, no other bounty hunters, no immediate threats. It’s a temporary place to park, and a much needed moment of peace from all of the danger. 

All is calm. 

The Mandalorian stirs in his sleep, letting a hand dangle over the edge of the bed. After a moment, maybe minutes, he feels something brushing against the very tips of his fingers. It’s so delicate that he doesn’t notice at first, but then it happens again. The third time is enough to rouse him from his sleep. Blearily he opens his eyes and finds that his helmet is still on. He didn’t bother taking it off. 

Then he feels the sensation on his fingertips again, like a fleeting touch, and from over the edge of the bunk he can just barely spot what seems to be a tiny little hand reaching for his own.

A soft coo breaks the silence of the ship. Mando rolls over and finds the small green child at the side of his bunk. The child freezes for a moment, like it’s been caught with its hand in the cookie jar. 

“I thought I put you to bed.” Grumbles Mando, which only earns an innocent, wide-eyed stare and a coo in return. The child tilts its head this way and that, it’s ears--which are far too big for it’s head--perk up and down at the sound of the familiar voice. “How did you even get out of the crib?”

Another happy, yet uncomprehending chirp comes in response. 

“What are you doing out anyway?”

The child’s ears drop and it reaches again for Mando’s hand, opening and closing its fists. It’s just barely tall enough to brush against the tips of Mando’s middle and index fingers. 

“Do you want up here?”

He’s not sure why it would. There’s more room in the crib. It’s probably warmer there too but still, he heaves a sigh and reaches out his hand allowing the child to grab and hold on while he pulls it onto the bunk. A happy squeal tells Mando that he successfully understood what the child was trying to communicate. 

“Alright, well if you’re going to be up here, you need to sleep. Got it?”

He doesn’t have to tell the child twice. It crawls over the chest piece of his armor and hunkers down between Mando’s side and the crook of his arm. Already, the child’s eyes begin to close and the tiniest yawn lets him now that it’s ready to sleep. 

“Sweet dreams, womp rat.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> idk if this is a good chapter or not, I just really wanted to write some more Dad Mando.  
> One again, this is a first draft, completely unedited. please forgive me for any mistakes

Somewhere in the desert of a well hidden planet, the Razor Crest is park in a secluded cave. It's a breezy day, which doesn’t bother Mando too much from under his helmet, but with big eyes and ears, the sand carried by the wind becomes a nuisance for the child. 

_ The child _ , Mando shakes his head to himself as he tucks the infant’s head further into the blanket to keep it shielded from the sand and dirt.  _ One of these days I’m going to have to come up with a name for him.  _

He’s not sure how susceptible to burning in the sun his species is, but the child seems to be happier out of direct sunlight. Mando shifts to hold him with his other arm. They reach a cantina after a short walk, and the break from the suns is a great relief. A Mandalorian sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the crowd of patrons, but no one seems to be looking for a threat. For the most party, the Cantina seems to be safe from anyone itching for a fight. 

There’s a small table in the corner of the room. Somewhere Mando will be able to keep his eye on everyone else without having to check behind his back. He pulls up one of the stools and sets the child down, taking his own seat next to him. A barmaid, who appears to be much older than Mando, comes over once they’re seated. 

“Can I offer you a drink, young man?”

“Nothing for me, but if you’ve got something for the kid, that would be great.”

She looks skeptical, but turns with a nod and retreats back to the bar. 

Mando glances over to the child who is looking around the room in innocent wonder. Some folks stare at the Mandalorian. Some folks stare at the child. Others seem to have seen stranger things in their time and pay no mind to them at all. 

When the barmaid returns, she offers a cup and bowl on the table in front of the child. He squeals joyfully and reaches for the cup. 

“I’m afraid we don’t have much for children. Cup of broth and some mash is all we have.”

Mando nods to her. “That will do well. Thank you.”

Feeding the youngster is a strange thing. He seems to be perfectly capable of catching and feeding himself small meals, but there are no frogs for him to catch on the ship, and Mando kind of hates watching him swallow them whole (that can’t be healthy for a child), so they stop for meals along their way from job to job. The kids not a picky eater, but Mando isn’t quite sure what his species usually eats. So far, soup is always a safe bet, but he’s never given the child solid foods before, not even a soft mash. 

He takes a sip of the broth. The cup looks massive in his tiny hands, but he holds the cup like a bottle and manages to take a hearty drink. 

Mando nudges the bowl of mash towards the child who eyes the contents of it curiously. Carefully, he sets the cup down and pulls down on the side of the bowl, tilting the other end up. The mash is a kind of blue-ish color, reminiscent of something Mando would expect to find in the small village on the planet Sorgan. 

The child takes a fist full of mash, and Mando nearly scolds him for eating with his hands, but then he remembers that this is a  _ baby  _ he’s dealing with, and the little creature has probably never even held a spoon before. 

Upon taking his first bite, the child’s eyes widen and lets out an excited squeal, bouncing up and down in his chair. Mando can’t help himself. He chuckles at the sight. “Is that good? Better than frog guts, I’m sure.”

The child slaps his hands on the table and takes another messy fistful of mash into his mouth. By his fifth or sixth bite, the child has successfully managed to paint the table (and mouth) with food. Mando is content to simply allow him to eat on his own, but the barmaid working at the bar returns with a wet rag and a scowl. 

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to control your son--”

“Oh, uh, he’s not actually...He’s not my son.”

No sign of amusement flashes across the woman's face. “You’re not his father?”

“No, I’m just his...caretaker.”

“Well you’re his guardian, and he’s making a mess, so if you’re not going to do anything about it, you’re going to be the one cleaning his mess up.”

Mando looks back at the child, unfazed by their conversation and still happily stuffing his face with mash. He never listens to him. Mando’s not even sure how much the kid even understands him. “What am I supposed to do? I’ll clean the mess but it’s not like I can make him stop.”

The barmaid casts him a look of genuine confusion. “Sir...Have you...never fed a baby before?”

The silver helmet stares back, unmoving. He’s not sure if he should answer that question truthfully or not.

With a sigh, the barmaid sits down and grabs the spoon she had brought for the mash. She pulls the bowl away from the child and wipes his face with the wet cloth before scooping up some food on the edge of the spoon and holding it out. The child twists its head away, wanting nothing to do with the spoon. 

_ See? _ Mando wants to say, but he doesn’t. 

“Come on now, sweetie.” The woman pulls the spoon back and makes a circle with it in front of the baby’s head. He stares wide-eyed at the food, following the pattern the barmaid draws in the air with the utensil. She makes a whirring noise, like a ship, and the child’s mouth drops open slightly, mesmerized, until the woman circles the spoon around and around and it lands in the child’s mouth. Immediately, he recognizes the food and bounces in his stool with a pleased garble. 

The barmaid smiles and coos, “Umnumnumnumnumnum.” and pinches his cheek. She leans back and turns to Mando. “Your turn, Daddy.”

“I’m not his--”

She doesn’t offer him the chance to finish and shoves the spoon in his hands. Mando feels a little dumb. He feels like he should know how to feed a child, and he feels a little stupid having to learn, but he especially feels stupid with everyone in the cantina watching him. 

But he’s a stubborn man, and he’s rarely ever been one to turn down a challenge. He’ll be damned if he is going to let spoon feeding a child get the best of him, so he scoops up a bit of mash and holds it out for the child. Like before, he’s hesitant to take a bite, so Mando tries again. The child grumbles and turns his face away. 

All eyes are on him. Mando is faced with two choices. He can either choose to save face and  _ not  _ fly the spoon into the child’s mouth like a ship, or he can sully his own stone-cold reputation and feed the child the way the barmaid had shown him. 

It’s not really a choice. He doesn’t  _ want  _ to embarrass himself but he’s not about to deny the child food, especially not when he’s staring at him with those big eyes. 

With a sigh, Mando gives in and raises the spoon up, circling the food through the air until the child drops his jaw in awe. He scoops the spoonful of food into the child’s mouth, rewarded by the gleeful noises he makes. 

“Now say Umnumnumnum.”

Mando turns his head to the woman sharply and hopes she can feel him glaring through his helmet. “I’m not saying that.” 

The barmaid smiles. “Well, then I’ll leave you to it.” 

Satisfied with seeing a Mandalorian’s pride slightly humbled by spoon feed a child, the rest of the audience turns away as well, and Mando is left to finish feeding the child on his own. Every once in a while, after a particularly large bite, the child dribbles some of the mash onto his chin and Mando has to scoop it back up to its mouth. 

“You know, I really didn’t sign up for this.” He mumbles quietly. “People are gonna start spreading rumors about me...telling people I’ve gone all soft for a kid.”

After a few more bites, once the child refuses to eat anymore, Mando uses the wet rag left by the barmaid to wipe down the child’s face. He cleans the mess off of the table and the small amount of mash that landed on the floor, and tips the barmaid well. 

“All done?” 

Mando nods. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it.” She winks. “All parents start from the beginning.”

For a moment, Mando thinks about correcting her; that he’s not the child’s parent, but then he just shakes his head and makes his way towards the door with the child swaddled in his arms.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saw a post on tumblr about Baby Yoda's teeth and reminded me of teething.   
> This one isn't as good as the previous two chapters, but I figured I would upload it anyway.
> 
> I didn't realize that the 7th chapter was being released today, so I haven't watched it yet, and I can't watch it until my mom gets home tomorrow (I got her hooked on the show a few nights ago)
> 
> Hope this one is at least enjoyable!

Patience is like a muscle. It can be built stronger over time. Some people have a weak patience, some are vigilant at waiting for what they want. Sometimes, the line between patience and stubbornness is too thin. As for Mando, he’s not sure if he would consider himself an extremely tolerant man, or simply a strong headed one. One way or another, he is willing to do whatever it takes to get what he wants, and right now, the only thing the Mandalorian wants is sleep. 

The Child has been crying for what feels like days, now. It’s on and off, but it’s exhausting for the both of them. Neither of them sleep, Mando is too busy trying to comfort the poor little thing to pilot the ship long enough to land it, and it seems like there is nothing to ease his tears. When this had all started, the sound had been alarming enough on its own. For the most part up until now, the Child had been very evenly tempered. In fact, Mando fears he may have jinxed himself my wondering how lucky he was to not have to worry about a fussy Child. 

He’s growing desperate. Mando sighs from his bunk as he hears the wailing start up again. He makes his way over to the Child to find him crying loudly, mouth open, ears drooping down. He reaches out for Mando, who picks him up and holds him to his shoulder, gently patting his back. 

“It’s alright, little guy, it’s alright.” He cooed. 

He’s overwhelmed.  _ What the fuck am I doing? Who do I think I am? Who am I to take care of him? I couldn’t take care of human baby if I tried, how am I supposed to take care of him?! I don’t even know what he is!  _

Memories of Sorgan, Tatooine, and the barmaid from the cantina come back to him; the women who have been helping him along the way. Oh, how he wished he could ask them for help right now. He vaguely recalls widowed villager’s motherly advice. “The five S’s” she had called them. 

_What were they? Oh, right: Swaddle, Stomach/Side, Shushing, Swinging, and...and…._ He can’t seem to remember the last one.  _ What was it? _

In the meantime, as he tries to remember whatever the fifth S was, Mando folds out the blank he had given to the Child and smooths it down flat. “Now, let’s see if I still know how to do this.” He thinks out loud over the loud crying. He lays the Child down on his back at the top of the blanket and pulls one side in tightly over his chest. Then, he pulls the other side over and folds the bottom up. It doesn’t look right, so he tries again. He tries folding the bottom up first, and then the two sides. Again, it doesn’t look right, and the Child wails and wriggles around until he’s free from the blanket. 

One last time, Mando gives it another try. He folds the top corner of the blanket down and starts with the left side, tucking it behind the Child’s arm. Next, he pulls up the bottom of the blanket and tucks it under, and finally, he wraps the last corner of the blanket around the tiny little creature. This time, the Child stays swaddled, and Mando gives himself an affirmative nod. 

The next step on the list is to lie the Child on their stomach or side rather than on their back. Mando thinks about laying down in his bunk with the Child, but he can’t really “swing” him--which is another step--if he’s lying down in bed. So, he goes to the pilot’s seat. The chair reclines and swivels around, which is good enough. Mando leans back in the pilot's seat and, resting the Child on his chest, and begins to slowly twist the chair with his foot on the ground. 

Still, the Child continues to sob into his shoulder. The only thing left on the list that Mando can remember is shushing. He’s been doing that for hours now, but he gives it another go, hushing the Child as they sway from side to side. He even tries humming a lullaby, but it all seems to fall upon deaf ears. 

It’s not helping. Nothing is. Mando feels a little bit like giving up, but giving up isn’t an option because clearly something  _ wrong.  _ The Child has never been one to cry for nothing, and Mando feels terrible because he doesn't know why he’s crying in the first place, and he feels helpless to sit and listen to the crying any longer.

He considers flying back to Sorgan, but it would risk putting the villagers back in danger by drawing attention to them, and it would cost a lot of fuel. He thinks about flying to the nearest planet and looking for someone who can help, but again, he hardly has the chance to land the damn ship. He senses the growing frustration starting to boil inside of him and forces himself to take a few deep breaths. Maybe the Child can sense his stress. Maybe he’s making things worse. Maybe--

Mando interrupts his own train of thought. He listens. The sound of the crying has slowed. Perhaps the Child has exhausted itself once again? 

He gently tips the Child back to see that he has a bit of Mando’s cape balled into his mouth and is gnawing at it with a look of pure concentration. Mando tuts and gently pulls the cloth out of his mouth. “Don’t suck on that. I probably has dirt and dust on it. I haven’t washed it in a while.” 

Immediately upon removing the blanket, the Child begins to fuss again with a look of pure betrayal in his big teary eyes. He squirms in his swaddle and starts to cry again. Mando think about giving him the cape again when something clicks.  _ Oh, _ he nearly laughs.  _ Sucking.  _ The very last of the five S’s. Give the Child a pacifier. 

Mando gets up off of his feet and rummages through the small cubby of clean cloths. There’s only one clean rag left. It’s an old, thin, plain blue cloth, but it’s exactly what Mando needs. He carefully uses his single free hand to unscrew his water flask and pours a small douce of it onto the rag before offering it to the Child. 

The moment the Child has the rag, the cries dissolve into sniffles and hiccups. He stares off with a very serious look on his face, like chewing on a wet rag is some very serious business. Mando chuckles.  _ Finally.  _

He walks back to the pilot’s seat and reclines with the Child on his chest once again. He feels the rag drop, and turns to pick it up, but notices a tiny purple speck on the wet corner of the rag. 

“What the-...” He looks back to the Child he is waiting for his pacifier. Mando pulls down the Child’s chin delicately and looks inside, noticing how puffy and punk his gums are. There are four teeth, two on top and two on the bottom, and one tiny little tip of a tooth sticking out where the gums are swollen the most.  _ He’s teething.  _ Mando realizes as relief washes over him. 

“No wonder you were crying up a storm.” He offers the Child his rag once again, and watches as he happily gnaws on the fabric. “I’m sorry I didn’t hear what you were trying to tell me, little guy.”

Satisfied with his new pacifier, it’s only a matter of minutes before the Child drifts off to sleep. Mando continues to sway in the pilot’s seat, rocking them both into a much needed, and well deserved slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! All of your comments mean the absolute world to me! I have never had such nice and positive feedback on my stories. You guys are the best! 
> 
> Seriously, thank you so much for all of the love!


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